Monotony: An ATF Short Story
by zethor18
Summary: In a small shack on the outskirts of Southside, Georgia, all hell breaks loose. Not far away, another group of people have their own set of problems. (If you're reading this, it is assumed you have at least a basic knowledge of what ATF is and the premise of the entire series. If not, why are you here.)


Monotony: An ATF Short Story

Rain drops rhythmically splashed on the rusted tin roof of the small shack, creating a sort of music in the night. The water that didn't soak into the rust ran along the grooves until it found a gutter, which it ran along until it dropped into a small black bucket, partially filled with dirty rainwater.

Sitting on the porch of this small shack, watching the bucket fill slowly was a man in a cracked rocking chair, his hands folded firmly around a .308 Bolt Action Hunting Rifle. His face was wrinkled as he sat deep in thought, humming quietly as he swayed in the chair absentmindedly.

Through the trees surrounding the small shack, was the Halfmoon Bay, which was covered by a light early morning fog. Further off, silhouetted in the grey was the USS Winfall, sitting near a small island. Crickets chirped quietly somewhere not far off, and a dove was cooing nearby as well. It was far from quiet, but for the man staring distantly into a bucket of gutter water, it was the very definition of peaceful. Compared to the alternative, which was backbreaking work or life endangering encounters with local bandits, he far preferred the boredom.

Breaking from his thoughts, by the sound of the bucket running over, he stood, setting his rifle to the side. Picking up the five gallon bucket, he carried it inside to be purified and stored. A man of about forty years of age, like all others in Southside, Georgia, he looked much older than he was. His eyes gave a sense of hidden wisdom, while the scars on his face and arms spoke of battles fought in the past. His hair was unkempt, tucked under a faded black cap, and his jawline was covered with a beard, dotted with flecks of gray.

He set the bucket down on what could be considered the counter, turning to a pile of containers that the water would be transferred into after it was properly purified. He sighed, leaning back onto the counter and looking at the broken watch that he wore on his left wrist. It was almost five in the morning. She should have been back.

Momentarily pushing his anxiety aside, he turned to their stove. Grabbing two small logs, he opened it and fed them in, using a stoker to prod the coals several times. The rain was picking up outside, hitting the roof in large drops. Once he was content with the fire, he closed it and walked back to the door. As his hand touched the knob, he was knocked backwards by the door swinging open abruptly. A woman rushed through, walking straight to the kitchen.

"Kat, jesus you almost gave me a heart attack." the man gasped, shaking his head. "What's going on? You're thirty minutes late."

"I picked up a set of tails when I crossed back over. They tried to jump me but I got away." she replied, her breathing strained. "They got me though. I don't know how bad. I didn't stop to check, I just ran." she moved her hand from her side, revealing her hoodie to be sticky with blood.

Walking forward, he looked at the wound, wincing. "Get your coat off and let's see it then." he helped her get up on the counter to sit, as she removed the hoodie. "Did they follow you here?"

"Agh, fuck if I know. I ran like hell." she sucked in air as he began probing the wound gently with his fingers, shaking his head.

"This ain't good. Was it those same guys from last month?" he asked. The rain started to thump on the roof, causing them to raise their voices to speak.

"One of them looked like he was with them. I didn't stop to ask their names and what gang they were affiliated with you, sorry." she snorted, catching her breath as she did so.

"Being a wise ass isn't helping anything." he replied. Turning around to search for his small medical kit, he was stopped dead in his tracks by a voice outside that rang clear over the rain.

"Both of ya', come out now and we'll just rob you for everything you have." a man said, sadistic laughter in his voice. "Don't and we just kill you and take it all anyway."

"Get down... Get down!" Kat hissed, sliding off the counter and onto the bar, taking her acquaintance with her.

"We don't have anything you want!" she yelled back, doing her best to hide the quivering in her voice. "Just leave us alone!" The man outside chuckled to himself. The chick had balls, that much was clear. Turning to her partner she asked, "David, we can-" she stopped abruptly. "Where's your rifle?"

His eyes widened. "Oh fuck." he whispered. "The porch."

"Are... are you... are you fucking _crazy_?" she asked incredulously, motioning with her hands. "Why in the fucking hell would you leave-"

"Sorry, I didn't know we were going to get ambushed in the middle of all this." he replied, "Pardon me!"

"Abso-fucking-lutely grade A." she spat, "How are we going to bullshit out of this one? Pray for divine intervention?"

He gave her a warning look. "Watch it."

"Sorry." she looked at the ground, avoiding his steady gaze. "I didn't mean..."

"It's fine. Look, let me talk and see if we can bluff it out of this one." David said, looking at the door. "We've been in tighter spots."

"Right." she grunted, her hand still held to her wounded side. "You tell me when you think of one." Looking to the door, David yelled back to the group outside.

"We're armed and covered! If you come in here it'll be a complete massacre." he gritted his teeth, "Go away and nobody has to get hurt!"

"Oh you're armed huh?" the voice outside laughed. "With what? This here rifle on your front porch? I think you're bullshitting me. Best you've got is handguns most likely. And who says we have to come in there? We could just burn the place down if we wanted. Would hate to ruin such a lovely lady though." Kat spat, as if the words left a sour taste in her mouth.

"What do you want from us?" David asked back.

"Already told you buddy. Everything you have."

"Fuck you."

"I was hoping you'd say that." replied the bandit outside. He then sighed loudly, "You think I'm messing around here? I've got enough men here to storm the place and take you and your pretty little lady there, and burn your asses on a fucking stake."

"Stay low, don't move." David whispered to Kat, unholstering his M1911 handgun slowly, creeping across the shack to the door.

"Where are you go- wait!" she hissed, her command not stopping him. Being careful to avoid the spots on the floor he knew would creak, he approached a small hole in the wall, looking outside to assess the group. They numbered about ten, from what he could see. They wore jackets with hoods, several wore bandanas, and all were armed with a variety of weapons. He knew there would likely be more around the back if they were smart, though considering how tightly they were grouped, he knew they weren't smart enough to take precautions against an improvised explosive. Turning his eye to the apparent leader of the group, he quickly assessed him.

He looked to be about six feet tall, heavyset, with a dark olive skin tone. His face was dotted with stubbed, and he had a large scar on his chin. In his hands was sawed off double barreled 12 Gauge shotgun, with duct tape wrapped around the handle. A bandolier was around his chest, containing several more shells for the gun.

David spat angrily. They were outnumbered, likely surrounded, and heavily outgunned. He estimated they had a minute tops before the assholes got impatient and decided to storm the place at the risk of one or two casualties.

Looking across the small crowd again, he saw one holding his Hunting Rifle, which made him clench his fist in anger.

"Sons of bitches..." he muttered to himself, crouching to work his way back to Kat. "We're outnumbered. I'm going to start firing, see if I can take out some of the bastards. When I fire the first shot, you go out the back window, you hear? You break it if you have to, and you run. You don't stop running until you find help."

"David that's suicide, I'm not leaving you he-" she was interrupted by him.

"This isn't a debate. You run."

She lowered her eyes.

"Alright." she muttered. Searching for words to say, all she could come up with was "You... give 'em hell."

"Sure." he replied, walking back to the hole in the wall. Raising his voice, he called out to the leader. "Alright, hold your fire. We're comin' out!"

Aiming through the small hole at the bandit holding his rifle, he flipped the safety off, and breathed in deeply. Turning his head quickly back to Kat, he nodded, then he put his finger on the trigger, and the bullet erupted from the barrel.


End file.
